


Stolen

by MandalorianDragonTrainer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A Very Unoriginal Title, Angst incoming, Chapter Lengths Vary Wildly, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Intense but not graphic, Iron Man 3 references, Iron dad and Spider son, Kidnapping, Or should I say Unoriginal Original Villain, Original villain - Freeform, Spectacular Spider-Man references, This Whole Thing Is Very Unoriginal, blood tw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-05-20 08:11:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14890814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MandalorianDragonTrainer/pseuds/MandalorianDragonTrainer
Summary: The anonymous call could not have been more clear. Come alone, or never again see Peter alive.*ON PERMANENT HIATUS*





	1. Threat

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this in my drafts since January, but I only just today finished the first chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Tony nearly dismissed the garbled transmission as a prank call. After all, he got a message like this almost every other day—a lowlife, either with a sick sense of humor, a death wish, or nothing better to do, sending Iron Man a threatening message challenging him to a showdown. This was nothing unusual. But right as he was about to shut the call off, the encoded voice cut to a different sound, one that chilled the marrow of Tony’s bones—a young boy’s screams.

“Who is this?” Tony demanded. He tried to mask the waver in his voice. It has sounded like Peter, yes. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Peter was at school, taking the physics test he had been studying so diligently for. The test Tony assured the boy that he would rock. It was a trick, only a trick....

“Have I got your attention then?” the mysterious voice snorted.

 _Incoming call from May Parker_.... flashed across Tony’s screen. He redirected it to his secretary. Certainly, she wasn’t calling to ask about Peter’s whereabouts. She knew he was at school. It must be about something else.

“I—I’m sorry, who is this?” Tony took a deep breath. “Who is this?”

“That’s not important, Stark, not yet anyhow. What is important is—”

Screams cut him off. 

“STOP, STOP WHAT DO YOU WANT!?! I—I—I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT!?”

The secretary’s voice mingled with that of the terrified boy.

“Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark? Mrs. Parker needs to speak with you immediately. She says it’s about Peter....”

He hears the clock ticking heavily. 

It’s about Peter.

The secretary knocking urgently.

_Peter._

PETER.

Tony grasped his desk, leaning into it. It was the only thing keeping him from falling over. He tried to remember what his psychiatrist had said. Find five things you can see, four things you can hear, three things you can smell—

“Mr. Stark?” the secretary had opened the door, eyes wide. What was her name again? He had only hired her last week. “Mrs. Parker is on line 3, she says she got a call from Peter’s physics teacher—”

Tony’s fingers fumbled as he put the mystery caller on hold, switching over to line 3. “Mrs. Park—”

“Where is Peter, Stark?” the frantic woman demanded. “I told you he has to stay in school. I told you that he could only do this if—”

“He’s not at school?” Tony asked weakly. 

“You don’t—you don’t know where he is?!” May fell silent. Tony remembered what Peter had told him about his Uncle Ben, May’s husband. She had already lost so much. Peter was all she had left.

“He—he won’t answer his phone....” her voice broke. “His teachers all said he hasn’t been to any of his classes. I called his friends, every single one I know of—they all say they haven’t seen him since last night....”

“I’ll find him,” Tony answered quietly. “I will find him,” he repeated, more confidently. With that, he switched the line back over to the faceless caller. 

“I don’t appreciate being put on hold, Mr. Stark,” the voice spat mockingly. 

“Where?” Tony demanded simply. 

“I’ll have my people send your people—”

“No. This is between you and me.”

“All right then,” the voice laughed, before rattling off the coordinates. “Come alone, if you ever want to see that kid alive again. See you soon, Iron Man.”

 

***

 

_Where am I...._

Peter’s soft brown eyes opened painfully, seeing nothing but blackness. His spider sense seemed to be off—he could hear nothing but a ringing in his ears. A sharp pang shot through his shoulder as he attempted to stretch out his arm.

_Was I in a fight? I don’t remember...._

Wincing, Peter slowly tried to sit upright, hoping to clear his clouded head and get a bearing on his surroundings. 

“Okay, Peter....” the boy mumbled to himself, struggling to get upright. “Get it together...” Pain shot through his body, and he fell back, smacking his already sore head against the wall.

 _I’m in a room..._. he thought to himself, pressing his hand to the wall.  _Cold, concrete._... Peter stretched out his feet to see how far the other wall was.

Only to find he couldn’t.

Panicked, Peter grabbed hold of thigh. No feeling. Absolutely none. A cold sweat broke out over his body.

 _Help_....

HELP.

The cry sounded absolutely pitiful, so much so that Peter flushed in embarrassment as he choked out the sound. His throat was dry and rasped, and he felt as though he hadn’t had a single thing to drink in weeks. “Wha—wha—what’s happening?” he sputtered, sobbing wretchedly. “Is—is anybody there?”

No answer came.

Peter raised his hand to wipe his cheek, only to find he had produced no tears. _I’m dehydrated…_ he thought to himself. _How long can you live without water? I don’t even know how long I’ve been here!_

Peter swallowed painfully. In a way, he was grateful for feeling as parched as he did—it kept him from thinking about the fact that he _could not move his legs._ The boy touched his wrists, finding—as he suspected—that his web-shooters had been removed.

Peter never went anywhere without his web-shooters.

“Somebody took them off…” he mumbled to himself, using his hands to drag his back against the wall, allowing himself to sit upright.

 _Drip, drip…._ Drops of water thudded down on Peter’s head.  Sighing gratefully, he tilted his head back and let the water splatter softly down on his hot face, wetting his cracked lips and tongue. The coolness of it restored a slice of his sanity—and with it began to come the memories of what had happened…

***

Peter stuffed his suit into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. The sun was just beginning to cast golden rays up from the Atlantic, illuminating the distant New York City skyline. It had been a successful night. Spider-Man had foiled three robberies, ended two car chases, and protected a woman from muggers. A smile spread across Peter’s face. He was glad that he and Mr. Stark had been able to convince Aunt May to let him do these night watches. Of course, he could only do them three nights a week, and only if he completed his homework and promised to get enough sleep. Peter had to admit that he missed the days when his aunt had been blissfully unaware of superhero alter ego—but at the same time, at least he no longer had to deal with the guilt of lying straight to her face. Though it killed May inside to let Peter put himself in harm’s way, she realized that he was doing the right thing and couldn’t deny that the streets of Queens were safer with Spider-Man patrolling them.

But Spider-Man would have to take a breather for the next eight or so hours, because Peter Parker had morning assembly, gym class, decathlon practice, and a killer physics midterm to attend to in the meantime. Peter popped in his earbuds and shoved his hands in his pockets, meandering down the empty sidewalk toward the bus stop. _It’s gonna be a good fifteen minutes before anyone else gets there,_ the young man considered with a yawn, turning down an alleyway as a shortcut. _Maybe I can get in a quick nap…_

At that moment, the hairs on the back of Peter’s neck stood up. _My spidey senses are tingling…_ Peter’s heart pounded as he wheeled his head around, just in time to see a large black van barreling down the alley toward him. The vehicle was moving so fast, most others would assume the driver had every intention of racing right past them. Peter would have thought so too, if not for the fact that every fiber of his being was screaming, _“Danger, DANGER!”_

For a moment, it seemed the van really _would_ pass him up. But just as Peter began to step back, the vehicle screeched to a halt nearly right beside him. In fact, the van had not yet come to a complete stop when the back door flew open and a hulking man emerged, reaching out a massive hand and snatching hold of Peter’s arm.

 _“What the—”_ Peter screamed, jerking free of the man’s grasp and shooting a stream of webbing directly into his beefy face. The assailant let out a muffled shout and tried to tear the impossibly sticky fibers from his eyes, nose, and mouth. Peter, however, had no intention of staying to see whether or not the guy got free—he had already shot a line of web onto the roof of the neighboring building, swinging away from the van—and the raging figure who had just emerged from the driver’s side—and to safety.

Peter was nearly five blocks away when he finally paused on the rooftop car wash to catch his breath. _Did that guy—did that guy just to try to_ …. _kidnap me?_

Peter clutched his heart. Did that man know he was Spider-Man? What if he did? Aunt May could be in danger. His friends could be in danger. _You idiot!_ He chastised himself. _You webbed him in the face! Even if he didn’t know who you were before, he does now!_

A new thought struck Peter. If his attackers had been unaware he was Spider-Man, why had they tried to take him? Were they just creeps who saw a young boy walking alone in the only morning and decided to snatch him? That would mean other kids were in danger as long as they were on the loose.

Peter whipped out his phone. _Gonna be a little late,_ he texted Ned, before tugging his suit out of his backpack and slipping back into it. No way Spider-Man was going to let some wanna-be kidnappers roam the streets unfettered.

It didn’t take long for Peter to locate the black van, which seemed to be wandering aimlessly though the streets. The young hero got a sick feeling in his stomach. Either the scumbags were searching for him in particular… or they were just looking for some innocent, unsuspecting kid to nab. Clenching his fist in anger, Peter swung down onto the street right behind the van and grabbed hold of its bumper with a sturdy line of web, jerking it to a graceless stop.

“Hey, losers!” Spidey called out. “Maybe next time you try to kidnap somebody, you make it fair and go after someone your own size!”

The passenger door swung upon, and out stomped the big bruiser who had tried to snag Peter earlier, a fresh welt on his forehead from smacking it against the windshield. However, the smirk on his face gave the idea that he was actually _happy_ about the situation.

“Well look who’s back,” the human buffalo snorted. “Weren’t so brave a few minutes ago, were you, boy?”

“Look, I’m operating off three hours of sleep and a stale energy bar, I’m bound to be a little off my game,” Spidey brushed off the insult. “But thanks for waking me up! You should get a job as an alarm clock. Probably pays better than the whole kidnapping gig.”

Peter didn’t even need his enhanced eyesight to see the vein popping out of the thug’s forehead. “Why don’t you shut your—”

“Ah ah ah, watch the language, my good man.”

The hoodlum cracked his knuckles. “I’m gonna break your jaw, insect.”

Peter clicked his tongue. “Actually, I’m an arachnid. But don’t feel bad—you’d need at least a fourth-grade education to know that.” The wall-crawler swung up top of the nearest building and dangled his legs casually over the side, watching the goon curse under his breath as he violently tore open the back of the van, dragging out what appeared to be a miniature cannon.

“Ooh, you’re not just any old heavies, you’re with the big boys!” Peter gasped in mock surprise. “Who’s the big man this time? Tombstone? Hammerhead? Oh, please don’t say it’s Shocker. That would just be embarrassing.”

“Why don’t you come down here and I’ll show you, ya little—”

Spidey fired a web at the thug’s mouth, cutting off his rant and catching him off-guard long enough for the web-head to swing down and plant his feet clean in the hulking man’s chest. Peter struggled to repress a snort as the bruiser went sailing into the garbage cans awaiting pickup on the curb.

“You—you’re gonna… _oh—_ ” the guy rubbed his head with a groan. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Why? All I did was send you home!”

_DANGER!_

Peter’s spider sense barely gave him enough warning, but he was still able to dodge the bullet, shouting in surprise. He whipped his head around to see a wiry figure had emerged from the driver’s seat of the van, a cannon over his shoulder matching the one his gigantic counterpart wielded a few moments earlier. Peter glanced down at where the bullet hole ought to be, only to find a narrow cylinder lodged in the brick. He could hear the electricity crackling from it.

“Now hold still, little spider,” the slimmer tough hissed. “This won’t kill you. But I can guarantee it’ll sting.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “Hand that thing over now, before you hurt someone.”

The thug responded by firing again, so Peter flung a line of web and jerked the cannon to his own hand. “Where’d you get this thing, anyway?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” the driver smirked, reaching into his pocket.

_DANGER—_

Peter cried out weakly as the cannon emitted a powerful shock. His muscles spasmed and his jaw clenched as he dropped limply from the wall, crashing unceremoniously onto the asphalt. The boy’s vision blurred, and a cold feeling sank in his stomach as unfamiliar hands roughly seized hold of him.

 

 


	2. Abduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I did not expect to write this all in one day, but here we are! It's a bit intense, and honestly not very good, but I hope you enjoy.

“Go on home, I’m going out for the day,” Tony fought to mask the tremor in his voice. His secretary couldn’t know anything was wrong. If she did, she may call someone, and if word got to that psychopath that Tony had broken their deal—no, no that couldn’t happen. He’d die before he let that happen.

Thankfully, the young woman didn’t protest, leaving Tony alone. Less than ten seconds after the door shut, Tony was in full armor. “Your heartrate’s unusually high, boss,” FRIDAY greeted.

“A ‘hello’ would be nice.”

“Then you should’ve programmed that.”

“Maybe I will. In the meantime, see if you can contact KAREN.”

“No response,” FRIDAY reported. “And no GPS location on either of Peter’s suits.”

Tony sighed. That was to be expected, of course, but still, he’d hoped at least to get a readout on Peter’s vitals. Maybe even get a message to him, promise him that help was on the way.

“Set a flight path to these coordinates,” Tony instructed.

“Flight path? This location is within walking distance, boss. The old Stark Industries shipping warehouse on the docks, to be exact.”

“I knew they looked familiar,” Tony mumbled.

“I’ll contact—”

“No.” Tony barked. “Don’t contact anyone, Fri, okay?”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

Tony knew he ought to formulate some sort of a plan. But those never were his specialty. For a moment, he considered calling Pepper. Maybe she could talk some sense into him. But the last thing he wanted was to bring her into this, to risk her life in any way. He decided to take one of the underground exits from the Avengers compound, minimizing the risk of anyone seeing him leave. The fewer people involved in this disaster, the better.

The sun was setting as Tony blasted off from the border of the compound property. According to FRIDAY, his last text from Peter had been sent at 4:36 AM. It was a selfie, with two muggers strung up in the background, obviously questioning their life choices. If Peter hadn’t even arrived at school that morning, he must have been kidnapped before 8:00 AM, meaning he had been at the mercy of his captors for a minimum for ten hours. Why did they wait so long to contact him? What horrors the kid endured in that time Tony could only imagine.

This was Tony’s fault. Everything was Tony’s fault. He should’ve stayed out of Peter’s life. If only he’d had the sense to leave an innocent young boy out of a conflict between full-grown, battle-hardened superheroes, Peter would be home with his aunt right now, having dinner and fretting over his Spanish homework.

“Coming up on the warehouse, boss,” FRIDAY informed.

Tony landed about a hundred yards out, taking a moment to scan the perimeter for security measures. _They chose this location for a reason_ , Tony thought. Was this guy another Aldrich Killian? Someone Tony rubbed the wrong way once fifteen, twenty, thirty-odd years prior when he was reckless, self-absorbed narcissist? Someone who emerged from the shadows to harm something Tony loved? He remembered the sight of Pepper, writhing and screaming for him as the Extremis was forcibly injected into her. _His fault._ The memory merged with that of Peter’s frantic wails, and Tony heard their cries as clearly as if they were right beside him, pleading with him to save them. But he couldn’t, paralyzed with fear, unable to move them. Unable to save them, unable to protect the ones he loved.

“Boss, boss!” FRIDAY’s voice sounded watery. “I’m upping the suit’s oxygen levels, you’re hyperventilating again.”

Tony struggled to breathe steadily, staggering to his feet. “Th—thanks, Fri.”

“Don’t mention it, boss. But we’ve got a new problem.”

“I’m scared to ask.”

“Two assailants incoming. Heavily armed.”

 

***

 

Peter’s neck ached from craning his head back, desperately wetting his throat—so swollen and sore he could only assume he had spent many forgotten hours sobbing, screaming, or both—with the filthy water dripping from the ceiling, He lightly touched a bloody finger to the swollen welt on the back of his head, remembering the feeling of his head smacking against the pavement. What followed was a blur. The boy closed his eyes and breathed deeply, straining to recall what happened after his fall, hoping to find a clue as to where on earth he was—anything to draw his attention from his paralyzed legs.

The sound of a door opening startled Peter from his introspection. A tall, broad figure appeared, ominously framed by the dim light filtering in through the doorway. Peter couldn’t make out the man’s face in the dark, even as he stalked closer to the immobilized boy. “Is sleeping beauty awake now?”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “Whoever you are, you better let me go right now.”

“You’re not exactly in the position to be using that tone with me, young man,” the man mocked, giving Peter’s numb legs a kick, the dull thud of the metal-toed shoe against the lifeless legs making him feel worse than any pain the kick would’ve caused him. “And even if I did, you wouldn’t be able to get far.”

“What do you want?” Peter’s voice wobbled despite his attempts to stay brave, a lump welling up in his throat. _Pull yourself together, Peter. No way Mr. Stark cried when those terrorists kidnapped him. Neither should you._

“Having a bit of amnesia, are we?” the man scoffed, bending down and roughly grabbing Peter’s face. The touch broke what remained of Peter’s stoic façade, and he collapsed sobbing.

“Please—please I don’t know what’s going on. Please leave me alone.”

“Sir!” a henchman, whom Peter recognized as the giant lout from the black van, hurried into the cell. “Security spotted Stark near the perimeter.”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter exclaimed.

 Despite the dark, Peter knew his captor was smirking. “Hear that, boy? Your hero’s here.”

 “You can’t touch Mr. Stark!” Peter snapped. “He’s way too smart for you!”

 The man put a hand over Peter’s mouth. “I don’t need to outsmart him, boy. He’s going to do exactly what I ask. You know why?”

 Peter glared at him.

 The man snorted. “Millan, why don’t you escort Mr. Stark inside? I think our guest is anxious to see him.”

Peter winced as the man blindfolded him and dragged him from the cell. Guilt gnawed at his heart. Mr. Stark was in trouble, thanks to him. How could he have been so stupid? He was supposed to be a hero—an Avenger—and he’d let himself be taken by a bunch of second-rate goons. Now Mr. Stark was going to pay the price.

“Please…please leave Mr. Stark alone,” Peter whimpered, only to be whacked on the head. The cruel touch sent his memory back to the thugs snatching his limp body up from the ground…

 

***

 

Patches of black and white splattered Peter’s vision. He could vaguely make out the two figures leaning over him, their voices echoing din in his ears. The thinner one yanked off his mask.

“He’s out… let’s tie him up.”

Peter moaned quietly his attackers stripped him of his web-shooters and locked cold, heavy clamps around his wrists and ankles. The big guy slammed a powerful fist down on Peter’s chest, shattering his suit’s central computer chip and evoking a strangled cry from his stiffened throat.

“Hurry!” the other hissed. “Get him in the van before someone sees!”

Peter mumbled senselessly as the bruiser flung him over his shoulder and tossed him onto the floor of the van. The boy landed in a crumpled heap, his useless body rolling against the back doors as the van leapt forward, speeding from the scene of the crime before the crooks were spotted.

 “Ring up the boss,” the smaller thug instructed. “Let him know we got the kid.”

Peter flopped onto his side, heart racing wildly, and stared in terror at his abductors with wide and watery eyes. What were they going to do to him?

Would he ever see Aunt May again? He promised her he’d be okay. That she wouldn’t lose him. Not like she lost—

“Ben…” Peter mumbled breathlessly. “May… I—I’m…”

“What’s he saying?”

“Probably calling his mommy,” the big goon sneered from the passenger’s seat, glancing back at Peter with a poisonous grin. “You scared, little boy? What happened to that mouth of yours? Got nothing to say?”

Peter choked as he tried to speak, his vocal cords spasming. “Let—let—”

“Tell you what,” the man taunted. “You say ‘let me go,’ and we’ll let you go, how’s that sound?” His accomplice shot him a glare, but the thug remained undaunted. “Go on, you little smart-mouth.”

“Let—let…let m—m—me… l—let me….” Peter broke down coughing and gasped for breath, a tear or two slipping from his eyes. His kidnappers erupted into laughter.

 “Millan, put the kid out of his misery,” the driver suggested.

Peter’s heart froze in his chest as Millan rummaged through his bag, drawing a gun and aiming it at the boy. His brown eyes filled with terror as tears began to roll down his cheeks. “N—no… no, pl—please,” he pleaded weakly. “I—I—I d—d—don’t…” his words trailed off as his jaw clenched, rendering him speechless.

The two men once again roared with laughter. “What are you, fourteen or four?” Millan jeered as he replaced the deadly weapon with a stun gun, jabbing it against Peter’s side without warning. Whatever motility the boy had regained was instantly taken away, and he could do nothing but lie helplessly as his abductor crashed his massive fist against Peter’s head.

 

Peter’s bloodshot eyes fluttered open. His hands were suspended above his head, secured by the same sort of powerful clamp the thugs bound him with. Grunting softly, he lifted his head to find himself staring into an unfamiliar face, startling him. His spider sense must be really shot.

 “Hello there, Mr. Parker,” the steely-eyed man greeted.

 “Who—who are you?” Peter moaned, his arms achy and shaking. “Where am I?”

The man grasped Peter’s chin, roughly jerking his face from side to side. “Where do you think?” The enormous concrete room was mostly empty, aide from a few crates and some rather sophisticated computers perched atop them, looking rather out of place.

“An—an evil lair?” Peter guessed

His captor chuckled darkly. “You’re adorable.”

He didn’t sound like he meant it.

“What—what do you want?” Peter asked fearfully. “Just—just tell me what you want.”

 “Do us both a favor and stop talking. I’ve got a phone call to make.”

Peter watched nervously as the man stepped over to one of the computers, picking up a cell phone. Two men emerging from the shadows. Even in its delirious state, his spider sense sent chills up and down his spine, warning of impending danger. One man grabbed hold of his legs.

“What are you doing?!” Peter panicked, attempting to wrench away. “Let go of me!” “Tony Stark. I have a proposal for you.”

Peter jerked his head up at the mysterious man’s words. “Mr. Stark!?”

_No._

The second henchman jabbed a needle into Peter’s thigh, instantly setting his blood ablaze with a horrific pain.

Peter screamed.

 _"Who is this?”_ Mr. Stark’s voice demanded.

“Have I got your attention then?”

_“I—I’m sorry, who is this?” Who is this?”_

“That’s not important, Stark, not yet anyhow. What is important is—”

 “STOP, STOP WHAT DO YOU WANT!?!” Peter wailed in agony as the fiery sensation tore up and down his entire body, though his legs burned with an especial fury. “I—I—I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT!?”

The horrifying pain racked Peter’s being, his cries for mercy ignored. Incapable of any coherent thought, he shrieked for the last trusted voice he heard before the maddening pain began.

“MR. STARK, HELP ME!!! PLEASE HELP ME!!!”

He shouldn’t have stayed conscious so long, but his superpowered body battled against the toxin, leaving him suspended in a wretched state of misery for what seemed to be hours, until his screams died to whimpers and his tears ran dry. Finally, Peter’s world turned to shadows and he fell limp in his bonds, washed into a sea of blackness before awakening in a dark cell, wounded and unafraid, unable to remember what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Peter... don't worry, Tony's on his way!


	3. Reckoning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Below you shall find a brief chapter of mortifyingly awful dialogue. Very brief, because apparently I can't write.

Tony activated his suit’s reconnaissance mode as the assailants approached, warming his gauntlets up in preparation to blast the incoming bruisers to kingdom come. “FRIDAY, how much firepower have they got?”

“My scans indicate both are carrying three handguns apiece.”

“I’d hardly say that’s ‘heavily armed,’” Tony quipped.

“One has what appears to be a hand-held, short-range missile launcher. However, it contains no explosives.”

“Well, this ought to be interesting,” Tony launched himself skyward, startling the henchmen despite their knowing his hiding place, and aimed his blazing gauntlets straight down at them. The two lifted their weapons above their heads, but the petrified expressions plastered on their faces told Iron Man that they were probably shaking too badly to pull the trigger.

“Look, I don’t know who you’re working for or what he wants,” Tony spoke with an unusual fierceness. “But why don’t you scurry on inside and tell him if he returns that kid to me unharmed in the next five minutes, I _might_ consider not beat—”

“Stark!” one of the heavies interrupted nervously. “Boss says that he’ll kill the kid if you don’t go inside. I—I thought you may like to know that. Seems like, uh, a nice kid…”

For a moment, Tony hesitated. Of course, he knew this was all a trap, but still, he didn’t want to make it so easy for the guy. But then he remembered the sound of Peter’s pitiful cries. No, if the kid’s safety was on the line, then he _had_ to do whatever was demanded of him. With that thought, Iron Man lowered his gauntlets and landed with a thud right beside the henchmen, who anxiously shifted away.

“Tell your boss,” Tony spat, staring the thug down with his suit’s glowing eyes. “That I’ll be right there.”

Not waiting for an escort, Iron Man shoved past the men and marched straight for the warehouse, heart burning in fury. This man, whoever he was, would pay dearly for so much as laying a finger on Peter.

Tony would get that boy out no matter the cost.

A pale, austere woman greeted Tony at the entrance. “I have to ask you to remove your armor, Mr. Stark.”

“And I have to ask you to remove _yourself,_ sweetheart,” he snapped back.

The woman’s lip curled slightly, a sadistic gleam in her grey eyes. “My employer’s terms are quite clear, Mr. Stark. Remove your armor and any weapons you have on your person, as well as any sort of communication device, or you will not be getting that child back alive.”

Silently, Tony rolled back his helmet, not breaking eye contact with the woman, and removed the ARC reactor housing the suit’s nanotech. He smacked the reactor into her hand, along with his earpiece. “That’s all I got on me. Now take me to Peter.”

“Right this way, Mr. Stark.”

 

***

 

When Peter was six years old, he wandered away from Uncle Ben and Aunt May in a crowded Walmart. Although they found him an excruciating fourteen minutes after the store went on lockdown, Peter remembered it feeling like a lifetime. He curled up against the lobster tank—which he’d sneaked off to look at—and cried, wondering if he’d have to live in the store and eat food off the shelves because there was just no way Ben and May could ever find him in that big, scary place.

That was a lot like how he felt now.

Peter clawed at his blindfold with shackled hands, desperate to see where he was being taken. But the endless ringing in his ears together with his still-useless spider sense, it was nearly impossible. His captor threw him down and immediately snatched him back up by the collar.

“Listen here, boy,” the man snarled, giving Peter a nasty shake. “You just stay where you are, and don’t you dare speak a word, got it?”

Peter nodded meekly.

“Good.”  

Wincing after roughly crashing against the floor yet again, Peter curled into a tight ball, willing himself to dissolve into the ground, nauseated with pure terror, hot tears welling in his bound eyes. He didn’t want to be hurt anymore. He didn’t want to die. He just wanted to go home.

“Stark, glad you could join us.”

Peter shot upright, forgetting the warning to stay silent. “MR. STARK!”

He was struck on the mouth as a result.

“Peter!” Tony called. “It’s okay, Pete, I’m here now, you’re gonna be fine.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Mr. Stark,” Peter’s kidnapper sneered.

Toy marched toward him, fist clenched. “Keep your hands off him. Now tell me what you want, before I lose my patience.”

“What was that? A threat?” the man nodded to the woman who brought Tony in. She tossed him the ARC reactor. “Without this?”

Tony folded his arms. “I don’t need that anymore.”

“I wasn’t referring to your surgery, Star—”

“I know what I said.” Tony stared at the men with fiery eyes. Suit or no suit, he would kill this guy.

“Now seems like a good time to properly introduce myself,” the man lifted Peter by the throat and glanced down at his blindfolded eyes, ignoring Tony’s presence. “I’m Jacob Leonard.”

The name sent Tony’ mind racing back nearly twenty years. “Leonard… as in, Timothy Leonard?”

 Leonard whipped his head to face Tony, eyes smoldering cauldrons. “Don’t say his name.”

 “I—I don’t know who that is…” Peter croaked, weakly attempting to pry Leonard’s hands from his neck. “I don’t know him…”

 “Of course, you don’t. He was gone before you were ever born.”

 “Mr. Leonard—”

  _“No!”_ Leonard hissed, pointing an accusing finger at Tony. “Don’t you _dare_ make any excuses!”

  “I wasn’t—”

 “Timothy was my son,” Leonard interrupted, speaking to Peter again. “I had a rough life, in jail by the time I was sixteen. I had no intentions of getting myself out of that life, until Timothy was born. I cleaned up my act, got a job, saved up to get us an actual apartment and get Tim into a decent school. He was smart as a whip, honor-roll student. A mechanics genius…” he paused, a flash of pain crossing his eyes. “You know what he wanted to do, more than anything? Work for Stark Industries. He got a job with them when he wasn’t much older than you, maintaining the equipment at one of the warehouses down on the docks.” He let Peter fall to the ground. “ _This_ warehouse.”

“Wh—what happened to him?” Peter whispered breathlessly.

Leonard bent down and grasped Peter’ face. “One day, the machine moving one of the crates malfunctioned. Timothy went to repair it, and the crate…” the man fell silent for a moment and breathed deeply, gathering himself. “The crate fell on top of him. Doc said his legs were completely crushed. By the time the paramedics got here, he was gone.”

“That—that’s terrible,” Peter choked. “I—I’m sorry…”

“I’m sure you are,” Leonard scoffed. “But it wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes,” Tony interjected. “It—it wasn’t his fault. It was mine.”

“Mr. Stark…” Peter whimpered.

“Well look who’s being honest for a change,” Leonard snapped his eyes in Tony’s direction. “But what did you tell the press? Or rather what did your _spokesperson_ tell the press?”

“That it was an accident,” Tony maintained eye contact with the enraged man. “And—and it was. That robot wasn’t ready for factory use yet.”

“And you _knew_ that! But you let them use it!” Leonard slammed Peter against the wall as if the boy were Tony himself.

 “I didn’t intend for it to be sent out to the warehouses, Mr. Leonard, I swear to you…” Tony’s voice softened. “I—I’m sorry. I’m deeply sorry.”

“You think I want your apologies?” Leonard growled. “Do you think that’ll fix anything? Same way you thought ‘anonymously’ paying for my son’s funeral fixed anything? You didn’t even have the guts to put your name on it, to admit that you were wrong.”

Tony glanced at the floor. Obadiah had convinced him to sweep the incident under the rug. Anonymously covering funeral costs had been their compromise, back when Tony believed the man genuinely had his best interests at heart. In hindsight, Tony realized Obadiah had only been protecting the company he hoped to take over.

Now Peter was suffering because of that.

“Look…” Tony finally spoke after what felt like an eternity of silence. “I understand that nothing I do will bring Timothy back. I—I understand why you want to hurt me, really, I do. But don’t hurt Peter… don’t punish him for something he didn’t do. He’s innocent. He’s an innocent kid, like your son was.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Leonard glowered. “Ever since my boy died, Stark, I’ve been haunted knowing that you’d never feel the same pain you caused me. But then—I found out about this kid. And I knew I had to take my chance.” The man lifted Peter off the ground and shot Tony a crazed smirk. “Now you’ll know what it’s like to lose a son.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that literally the most cliché villain motivation ever? Yes, yes it is. After I wrote it, I realized how much it sounded like Callaghan from Big Hero 6. That being said, thank you so, so much for the positive feedback!


	4. Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaaat? Remember this thing? I sure didn't. Turns out I had about 500-ish words added onto it that I never posted, so I decide to turn them into a ridiculously short chapter. Maybe this will give me the motivation I need to actually finish the darn thing.

_“No!”_ Tony lunged at Leonard, determined to defend Peter. The villain leapt back, his arms locked around Peter’s throat, as two henchmen rushed forward to restrain Tony.

_Get off me!”_ he roared, throwing an elbow into the thug’s jaw, and plunging his first into the abdomen of the other. For a moment, the men were too surprised by Tony’s outburst to respond. Tony charged Leonard, crashing against the evil man and dragging him to the ground.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter yelped in pain as Leonard landed awkwardly on top of him, twisting his arm behind his back until he wailed pitifully.

_"Get. Your. Hands. Off. Him!”_ Tony struggled to get a grasp on Leonard. By now, the henchmen had come to their senses and dragged the enraged man off their boss, throwing him to the ground. _“Don’t you touch him!”_

_Why did I give up my suit!?_ Tony screamed inside, hating himself. _Why don’t I have my suit, if only I had my suit I’d—_

“No, please, don’t!” Peter sobbed.  A cold glint of light caught Tony’s eye, reflecting off the knife Leonard drew over the boy.

“No, no, _no!”_ Tears started in Tony’s eyes as the men hauled him away from his kid, forcing him against the wall and pinning him there. Leonard took a fistful of Peter’s hair and dragged him to his useless feet, pressing the knife against the quivering neck.

“Leonard…” Tony gasped, fighting to break free. “Leonard, I’m begging you, please, please don’t hurt my boy… do whatever you want to me, please, don’t hurt him, he’s a kid, I love him, please…”

Peter moaned weakly as the villain tore the blindfold from him. “Go on, Peter...” Leonard taunted. “Look at your _hero_. Look him right in the eyes.”

 “Mr. Stark…” the boy’s dog-brown eyes were full of agony. “Pl—please tell Aunt May how much I love her… and—and that I’m so—so sor—sorr—” the boy’s voice broke as he began weeping miserably.

Tony’s heart nearly ripped in half. “No, Peter… you’re gonna tell her that yourself."

“Mr. Sta—”

Leonard’s hand moved over Peter’s mouth, muffling his whimpers.

“He’s lying, you know…” the man’s eyes filled with barbarous delight as he whispered into Peter’s ear, the knife across the boy’s neck drawing a thin trickle of blood. “He’s no hero. He can’t save you. He could never save anyone.”

The world began to move in slow motion for Tony as Leonard raised the blade and plunged it down.

And at the moment, Tony’s bones became iron.

With a desperate cry, he lunged forward, smashing his shoulder against one lackey’s jaw and knocking the other to the ground. Mind devoid of any thought, Tony threw himself at Leonard, an animalistic instinct driving him to get between Peter and the knife.

To protect his son.

An intense pang shot seared through Tony’s shoulder as he thrust his body between Leonard and Peter, who screamed in terror as he and the two men collapsed to the ground. Leonard, knife still locked in his grip, choked as Tony brought an elbow down on his neck, stunned by the sharp, bruising pain. He stumbled back, gasping and clutching the dark welt forming as his men raced to assist him.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter’s voice caught in his throat, paralyzed as he stared in horror at the red stickiness coating his hands. “I—I think he got me! I think he—”

Peter swallowed his words, cheeks going white. Tony wasn’t responding, instead lying slumped over the boy, red spreading through his clothing. “Mr. Stark!?!” Peter wriggled out from under him, catching Tony’s head before it smacked against the floor. The clothes covering the man’s back was soaked red.

The boy's heart fell still. The blood wasn't his.

It was Tony Stark's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's so short! I've had less than zero motivation to work on it at all. Now I'm back at college so I've got homework, clubs, and research projects taking up my time. But I hope to finish it!

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo yeah, even I don't know what'll happen next.... Tony had better hurry.


End file.
